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“No, I can’t…” But her protest was weak, and his game was on. Nash was in the zone and looked to score one last time.
“I’ll give you three,” he said, nuzzling her breasts as his hands began to wander. “And then you can go.”
“Three minutes?” she panted when his hands sank between her legs. “I can do that.”
“Nope.” Nash grinned, curving his fingers as he massaged his way inside her. “Three orgasms.” He hit the honey spot, and she cried out. “One down. Two more to go.”
Two hours later, she was gone, and he hauled his ass out of bed. He thought about making it, but what was the point? He planned on spending most of tonight in it, in her, and the messy sheets could stay messy.
Nash glanced at the clock on the night table. Honey was right about one thing. There was a lot to do, and this was something he had to get right. He hopped in the shower and, less than half an hour later, was on his way to town. He stopped in to see his parents, ran two errands in town, and was back to his place by early afternoon. He changed into his tux, made himself a drink, and headed outside.
Nash looked out over the water. It was warm for mid-March—an early thaw—and he was enjoying the temperature. It had been a long winter, and finally, a break from the cold was in sight. The sun shone down, making the ice on the lake shimmer like a blanket of diamonds. The sky was as blue as a robin’s egg, with only a few puffs of white clouds to be seen. It was quiet. Serene. That sweet spot between late afternoon and early evening when most folks were tucked into their homes having dinner. Overhead, the drone of a plane crossed the sky, and in the distance, he heard a whip-poor-will.
A shiver ran down his spine. Always happened when he heard one of them—probably because they sounded so damn sad. Melancholy settled over him. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was headed his way—something bad. Which was crazy after the night he’d had.
“Get a grip,” he muttered, frowning. He was restless, that was all. Nervous about where his thoughts were taking him, and about what he was contemplating.
Nash didn’t know how long he stood on his dock, only
that shadows started to creep over the dock, darkening the bit of snow left on the beach. He glanced at his watch and swore. He was going to be late if he didn’t get his butt in gear. The fundraiser was about to start, and he had a woman to see. Just the thought of Honey had his heart banging against his chest so hard, it left him breathless.
He was going do this. Shit. He was really going to do this.
Nash started up the steps that led from the beach to his house when he realized he wasn’t alone. Hudson stood up top, waiting, and Nash clapped his friend on the shoulder when he reached him.
“Did I miss something?” As far as he knew, he was meeting Hudson at the fundraiser. He needed to get going. Had a lady to pick up.
Hudson shook his head. “We need to talk.”
Nash tightened his periwinkle tie and frowned. Hudson was a former FBI agent, and he had that look. The one that was hard and serious and gave nothing away. It meant that there was something in play, and by the looks of it, Nash wasn’t going to going to like it.
“Do I need a drink for this? Or are we good?” Nash’s voice was light, but he sure as hell wasn’t feeling it.
Hudson didn’t take the bait. Tight-lipped, he was silent for a few moments. When he spoke, his tone was dead serious. “Cam told me you were thinking of making a big life decision tonight. You might want to wait.”
Irritated, Nash glared at his oldest friend. “I didn’t think I needed your permission to ask a woman to marry me.” Gritting his teeth, Nash made the decision to kick Cam’s ass from here to tomorrow when he got the chance.
“I need you to trust me on this.”
Nash was confused. He had no idea what Hudson was getting at. But the man was determined, and he knew from experience, Hudson was a stubborn son of a bitch. He didn’t have time for this.
“Look, Hudsy. You don’t know her the way I do. If she’s going to be a part of my life, you need to get on board or…”
“Or what? You’re going to throw away twenty years of friendship over a woman you don’t know?” Hudson didn’t try to hide his anger.
Nash was at a loss. “You’re asking me to choose between Honey and you? What are we? Fifteen?”
“You don’t know anything about her past. About what she’s done.” He practically snarled. “About what she’s planning to do.”
“And you do?” Nash took a step forward, hands fisted as anger rolled over him like a tidal wave.
Hudson was quiet for a few moments. Then, with a sigh, he reached into his dress jacket and pulled out a file. It was folded in two, and he carefully organized it and then handed it over to Nash.
“What’s this?” Nash stared down at the file labeled: Honey Harrison, and then back up at his friend. “You investigated Honey?” he asked incredulously.
“I had to. I knew something was up with her. I’m the guy who follows his instincts, even if those instincts lead to places I’d rather not know about.”
Unease coupled with a healthy dose of fear punched him in gut. Nash stared down at the folder once more. “How bad is it?”
